


and the ripped ones say goodbye

by shemeanswell



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Cold Weather, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Lonely TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Rain, TommyInnit is Not Okay (Video Blogging RPF), i wanted to write something happy but i fucked up, mighr do a second chapter, sorry - Freeform, these are very sad tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shemeanswell/pseuds/shemeanswell
Summary: the rain was always calming to tommy.at least it was, before all he had to sleep in was a white cloth tent next to a lonely beach.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	and the ripped ones say goodbye

the rain was always calming to tommy. 

at least it was, before all he had to sleep in was a white cloth tent next to a lonely beach. sure, there was the house in logstedshire, but he was far too uncomfortable in the house his dead brother built for him, with the photo of his old home on the walls and the secrets under the floorboards. 

so he sat in the rain. the bandages riddling his arms becoming heavy and soaked, along with everything else not tucked away in a chest. he stared out into the sea. it was dark and it was loud. there were no animals around, no sounds other than the harsh, cold rain. 

he reminisced on happier times. before he was a liability to the nation he founded, he was a kid. he remembered sitting by the window on rainy nights next to tubbo. 

before tubbo was the president, he was also a kid. they would talk for hours, entertaining themselves the way only the best of friends could. mindless conversation about stupid unimportant topics. like the purpose of tuesdays, building a bunker in a mountainside, and a cabin in the woods. this was almost always accompanied by the soft strumming of guitar strings by his older brother. 

before wilbur was dead, he was tommy’s older brother. anything but boring, always inspired and driven. nothing comforted tommy more than his brother’s music. he would do anything to hear it again. 

but ghosts don’t remember chord progressions, tubbo betrayed him, and he was alone in the goddamn rain. 

it was then that he realized he was shivering quite badly. his clothing was completely soaked. his fingertips were wrinkled. he sat with his legs tucked to his chest, wishing he could’ve build some kind of roof before the rain got this bad. it was too late now, though. 

he stared at the nether portal as it lit up. picking at the wet grass, he watched the figure walk out into the cold. nothing out of the ordinary. being alone does things to your mind, and seeing things that were not there was not unusual for tommy.

he watched the figure stand, looking at him with a pained expression, compass in hand. he watched the figure walk toward him. he watched the figure run toward him. he watched the figure crouch next to him. he watched the figure and everything else fade to black.

**Author's Note:**

> finally caved and wrote a dream smp fanfic! i wanna write more to this, i wanna write more in general really. if you read this please comment i would appreciate it so much!! my twitter is @copycatkillercc :) cya


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